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Entry tags:
.:Oh shit it's November:.
Who ⬤ Ganymede and Co.
What ⬤ You know what.
When ⬤ Nebulous times.
Where ⬤ Fine Wine, ΩQuiet Winter’s Wanderlust, Gany's McMansion, Net Slum, Protected Forbidden Pilgrim
Content Warnings ⬤ mentions of kidnapping, captivity, transphobia, dissociation, existential depression, and probably incoming other cws, lmao
What ⬤ You know what.
When ⬤ Nebulous times.
Where ⬤ Fine Wine, ΩQuiet Winter’s Wanderlust, Gany's McMansion, Net Slum, Protected Forbidden Pilgrim
Content Warnings ⬤ mentions of kidnapping, captivity, transphobia, dissociation, existential depression, and probably incoming other cws, lmao
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He can't move that shoulder yet; but there's nothing wrong with his fingers, and he's able to give a tiny squeeze to Ganymede's hand in return. ]
You did. You... never seemed to get tired of touching me...
[ He remembers the way Ganymede had flitted around his kitchen, a ball of restless energy. How he'd turned towards each tiny brush of contact like a flower growing towards the sunlight, unabashed in his enthusiasm. The thought makes him squeeze Ganymede's hand gently again. ]
...I never noticed, because you were were so intent when you danced. You never thought twice about the audience, that I saw.
[ But that's not what Ganymede means, he thinks. The lingering fear from memories he doesn't have now... he rubs his thumb distractedly over the back of Ganymede's palm. ]
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That's right, I don't. I never will.
[ Ganymede can only imagine how many instances he might have taken to touching Michel whenever he can just because he can. The shift in their fingers' position doesn't prevent the second squeeze, though it means it conjures a gentle smile on Ganymede's face. If Michel's shoulder wasn't so injured, he'd lean against him, but alas. ]
No, somehow I feel that putting on a show for an 'audience' is different. After all, it's so much easier when you're in the middle of an 'act', even with so many eyes watching. The hardest part might be when you're expected to talk to the crowds after the performance...I have a feeling I wouldn't—I don't—like the idea much.
[ Which pretty much probably confirms Michel's suspicions that even without memory he isn't necessarily bothered by crowds. He can picture it easily in his head without having memory as to why—but he can also draw on his previous interactions in Fragment too, when he went to a couple of events with so many people hanging around like some parties or even in the very beginning. He hasn't forgotten the uncharitable feelings lingering then, though he doesn't regret some of those meetings—Michel's included, of course. ]
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[ But, can he tell Ganymede that's unreasonable? He can't imagine a time where he wouldn't want to touch him. Even now, when it feels tempting still to retreat back into that void where nothing can touch him again... Ganymede's warm hand against his is an anchor that isn't painful. ]
I would be terrible at any of it. But... I can imagine how the performance would feel different. You know every step. In a way, those people don't matter at all. You could dance the steps without them altogether.
[ At least... that's how Michel would see it. Does Ganymede's love of dance make that more true, or less? Does he love it because he can share it with others? He knows Ganymede always loves him watching. But maybe there's a little quiet hubris rekindled in his tired soul, too: he doesn't doubt that he's special to Ganymede, even if he doesn't understand it, or grasp what that means. ]
You were hanging back at the party as well. The day we met.
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He is clearly intent on proving his point. ]
That's right...I think. That's probably why it feels different.
I would never make you dance in front of a crowd, unless, well...
[ In the middle of his marriage ceremony; there is probably going to be a little crowd, he thinks. He's already fantasizing again. Ah, it's wonderful to be able to think of this all over once more, even without explicit details in his memories to guide him. ]
...I remember that. I went on over to you, and you asked, 'Is this wall, perhaps, too crowded for another person?' After I had rudely asked if I could help you. At that time, I think I was practically a different person than I am now. Maybe.
I had a special nickname for you in my head at the time, that I didn't say.
no subject
[ Ganymede? That's a very alarming thing to say? Michel pales a little further, not making the mental leap just yet. All he's seeing in his future is paralyzing awkwardness and humiliation.
Would he do it for Ganymede? Very likely. But he's still holding his hand a little tighter in terror at the thought. Good time to distract him with nostalgia. ]
I-I can't believe you remember that... What nickname?
[ Thinking back... Michel was a very different person then, too. The man he is now would never have approached Ganymede. Or Sinclair, or Oriade. He would have walked away in annoyance when Fai played his prank, rather than retaliating. He likely wouldn't have stayed at the party at all beyond picking up his equipment. Has he gone backwards? Or is it, at least a little, that now that he's no longer alone he simply lacks the aching need to reach out to others? Perhaps both. ]
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Oh...you know, when we get married. It'd be kind of like, romantic, you know? Maybe.
[ He tacks on a maybe because he does have eyes and might have noticed Michel growing pale and his tighter grip on his hand, to which he grants a gentle squeeze. Ganymede thinks he should have clarified a bit sooner too.
As for the nickname
thank god I found it, he has to go into his Greek mind palace to search for it. Once he comes out, though... ]I remember a lot more things if it's just about you! Anyway, the nickname was Sir Winter Frost Bat Knight III. I was thinking of using it at one point, but it slipped my mind, and I kept getting distracted.
[ But now Michel knows! Those times sure were different. Even Fragment can't take away the earlier days of Ganymede recalling how irritable he was at the thought of people socializing with him. He even kind of was pretty rude at people for awhile and chased off this girl too, with his terrible attitude. He planned to do that with everyone else too, now that he thinks about it. But...
...Well. He didn't. ]
no subject
Michel rubs his thumb lightly over the back of Ganymede's hand, trying to ease his death grip a little. It would be romantic. Like the first time they'd danced in Mac Anu, when he was just beginning to realize that Ganymede made his heart beat faster. ]
I wouldn't describe that as a crowd. [ Blissfully ignorant to just how many people Ganymede intends to involve, help. ] But if we practice for long enough first, that might be... acceptable...
[ A few years of practice, at least. He thinks he could do that.
But he blinks, slowly, at the data that Ganymede unearths from the Greek mind palace. What... ]
...Congratulations. You might have heard me laugh several weeks sooner if you had managed to say that with a straight face.
[ No, more likely Michel would have given an incredulous stare. But he lets out a quiet huff of an exhale now, the shadow of a laugh. ]
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I can teach you! You'll be a top-tier dancer underneath my instruction in no time!
[ He seems so happy. Wow, Michel is prepared to handle the crowd of himself and his family, huh? Even a certain memory gives him information about how big his Greek family is, and also he wants to invite friends, so...
But, there's the soft almost-laugh that escapes Michel. The kind that brings a gentle joy which makes Ganymede's heart race with glee and pride that he made him laugh at all. ]
Oh really? I probably should've said it earlier on, then. But, it's making you laugh now? So maybe it's good timing anyway?
[ Giving the other male a bright smile at that. ]
no subject
[ "Top-tier" is certainly beyond him. But he'd be very content if he could manage not to trip over Ganymede or himself... He has a hunch that Ganymede's notion of proper wedding attire is going to give him a few more things to tangle himself in.
For a flicker, he can almost picture it. His own image is still blurred to him. And the crowd... better to leave that a blur. His answer to Lily feels so absurd still. There would be no way Georges or Didier would be able to make time to attend...
But he can imagine Ganymede's smile. The way the light would illuminate those beautiful green eyes, looking at no one but him for as long as they danced. ]
You don't change.
no subject
[ Ganymede very maturely sticks out his tongue, but then...he gives Michel a smile. Considering that his wedding attire is smack-dab in the middle of 'wedding dress' in a literal sense, he would be right that there is going to be a lot of things to evade getting tangled in...ganba, Michel, we believe in you!
...Though he does understand that maybe he won't see Michel at...theatre dancer in like, under a year or something. ]
Well, I'll take that as a good thing. Though, maybe...I have changed a bit. In small ways, but not in a bad way.
I don't remember much of my former life, but I remember my time here too, and some of the things I had thought. I don't think I would be thinking them normally, from the beginning of all this. But, I think I'm happy, that I'm able to think the way I do now.
[ He smiles a little, a bit softer to himself. It's been a long journey, it feels like, and they still need to go the rest of the way. But, for himself, for Michel, for Uta, and all the others he cares about, he has to do his best to ensure he fearlessly faces the past, present, and what's ahead as no one but himself. That said, he does tug at Michel's arm. Perhaps a soundless inquiry to lie down, with him, in the infirmary. ]
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Michel makes a soft noise of agreement to that tug and lets himself sink down onto the infirmary bed, resettling his good arm around Ganymede's waist. The ache of his shoulder doesn't bother him much now. The healing items dulled it somewhat, and besides... it's preferable to feel something that proves he's so indisputably here. ]
...You may have. At the beginning, you held yourself apart. Now...
[ He thinks of Kara's painting, of Ganymede and Uta and Oria. Of the obvious rapport Ganymede has with the group. He gives him another reassuring squeeze. Now, Ganymede has no reticence about sharing the warmth of his heart with others. It's — something, to believe that not only terrible things have happened in this world. ]
no subject
He was actually asleep for awhile due to his sudden fainting from over-exertion in being in too many Wave fights and all that, but he can probably do with more rest anyway. To say nothing of the fact Michel most desperately needs it himself. ]
...Now, I can look someone in the face and not look like I want them to disappear. For the most part...
[ Ganymede says softly, and he means to say something, but with the light squeeze, somehow that relaxes him even more. And, really, it shouldn't be so easy for him to drift back asleep, though he does, with the name of Michel's name uttered softly, almost as if he's going to say some other things. But, maybe that's good enough for now. ]
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He thinks he can understand that sentiment. More than a little. It's been a strange journey, and he's not quite certain yet where he ended up himself. Maybe that's just one more facet of being unable to picture himself right now. ]
You've grown. ...Rest well, Ganymede.